


A Man You Don't Meet Every Day

by Luka



Category: CHAOS (TV 2011), Primeval
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 11:15:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20045083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luka/pseuds/Luka
Summary: Ryan meets an enigmatic Scotsman in a London bar.





	A Man You Don't Meet Every Day

**Author's Note:**

> This is a crossover with Primeval and American show Chaos (curse CBS and the horses they rode into town on for dumping it, as it was loads of fun!), where James Murray (who played Stephen Hart in Primeval) played Billy Collins, a sparky Scotsman deported from the UK who's now one of a team of spies working for the CIA. Tom Ryan is the Special Forces captain from Primeval.

The man next to him at the bar might as well have had military tattooed on his forehead. And he couldn't seem to take his eyes off Billy.

"You'll know me again," observed Billy, sliding onto a bar stool.

"You're the double of a friend of mine. Get you one?" asked the bloke, nodding at the line of beer taps.

"Aye, thanks. A pint of best." 

"Down from Scotland, are you?" 

Billy was out of practice with English accents, but thought he detected a trace of the Home Counties in the bloke's brisk, flat tones. "On business," he said non-committally. The American thing tended to lead to too many questions. "You?"

"Same."

"Been here before?" The pub was a fairly discreet one down one of the side streets in Soho. Early evening and the clientele were smart and well-heeled, either on their way home from work or about to set out for a night on the town.

The bloke shook his head and took a swig from his pint. Behind the bar, the barman suddenly turned the TV up. Soccer, as Billy had finally learned to call it. Man Utd versus some European team.

"You like soccer?"

The other guy shrugged. "I'm more of a rugby man."

"Ah, funny-shaped balls more your thing, then…"

There was much eye-rolling, but it seemed to do the trick and broke the ice. They started chatting about sport, a conversation which spilled over into a nearby Chinese restaurant.

"So how long are you down for?" asked the bloke, who'd introduced himself as Tom.

"Couple of weeks, probably. Some of that's vacation time, though."

"Been in America, have you?"

Billy grinned. Sharp guy. "Yep, something like that."

"But if you told me, you'd have to kill me."

"Something like that. Fancy a nightcap?"

"Yeah, why not…"

~*~*~*

Billy had missed his London flat. It was near the British Museum and he loved the fact that you could step out of the front door and be right into the swing of the city, but that inside it felt like a refuge from the madness of his life. Masha had been there when he'd arrived, but she was now in Oxford for the term. And apparently she'd found herself a boyfriend – a handsome Frenchman called Henri. Billy had known a relationship between them was unlikely to last. It looked, though, like they'd be good friends and that was something worth valuing. She was a nice kid and would go far,

"Nice place," said Tom, perching on a windowseat and looking out across Russell Square.

"Yeah. I miss it when I'm away."

Tom nodded and accepted the glass of brandy Billy handed him. And he seemed unsurprised when Billy leaned over and kissed him hard, their lips dualling.

"Not going to fight me to be on top, are you?" asked Billy, enjoying the taste of the brandy on Tom's lips.

"Nope. Share and share alike, that's my motto."

"And a good one too…" Billy leaned back on the padded seat and unzipped his trousers. His cock was hard in an instant and he played with it leisurely, sighing happily as Tom's mouth engulfed it.

The bloke was clearly a seasoned cock-sucker, deep-throating with ease and letting his teeth scrape gently along the hard shaft. Billy hissed between his teeth, his fingers scrabbling for purchase in Tom's cropped hair.

Tom pulled back and got to his feet, unzipping his jeans and stepping out of them. Billy was about to protest at the fact his cock needed urgent attention, but his breathing quickened as Tom pulled him to his feet and then bent over, his palms flat on the windowseat. Billy squeezed the muscular arse, letting his fingers probe down the tight crack and push at the tiny hole.

"You want me to…?'

"Yep. Get on with it."

Billy smiled happily. He enjoyed sleeping with women, but his first love was fucking a tight arse. And Tom could offer him that in spades. He spat accurately on the twitching hole, pushing the moisture inside and following it with his cock. Tom grunted at the sensation and Billy knew he was really too dry. But neither of them was complaining and it was an out-of-this-world feeling as the tight channel eased to allow him access. He adored the sensation of having to struggle to get inside a clinging arse.

Tom was the best fuck he'd had in years. The guy obviously liked it hard, and Billy grabbed him around the waist and pummelled his arse deep, enjoying the deep groans from beneath him. He didn't last as long as he'd have liked to, but he suspected if he played his cards right that he'd get another chance later. 

Tom, who was slumped forward on the seat, was trying to get his breath back.

"OK?"

Tom nodded. "Good one."

"Fancy a shower?"

"That'd be good."

~*~*~*

Ryan leaned back against the shower wall and let the hot water beat down on his aching body. He'd needed that fuck after three solid months without downtime. He was sick of dinosaurs, sick of civil servants, sick of academics. And seeing what you couldn't have every day was getting almost too much to bear. Some days he could cheerfully have strangled Nick Cutter – not only for being a monumental pain in the arse, but also for getting his man.

It was uncanny how much Billy looked like Stephen Hart. He was a year or two older and his smart-casual clothes were obviously expensive, light years away from Stephen's teeshirts and jeans. Unlike ultra-serious Stephen, though, humour lurked around this guy's eyes and lips all the time.

Ryan would have bet a month's salary on the bloke being a spook of some sort. He'd noticed in the pub and the restaurant how Billy had selected seats where he could see all-comers. And his eyes were never still. There were some odd Americanisms in his speech as well, so maybe he was MI6.

Whatever, he clearly wasn't short of a bob or two. The flat could have been rented, Ryan supposed, but the ease with which Billy moved around it suggested it was his. It was masculine but comfortably furnished. Ryan would have given his eye teeth for a wetroom like this one with a shower which had probably cost the equivalent of the gross national debt of Peru.

He reached for a towel from the heated rail, ran his fingers through his hair, then wandered through into the large living room, fastening his shirt.

Billy was stretched out on one of the sofas, flicking through a newspaper. He looked up appreciatively when Ryan appeared. "How many hours a day do you train to keep a body like that up to scratch?"

Ryan shrugged. "Two, three hours, depending whether I'm working or not."

"Military?" asked Billy shrewdly.

Ryan nodded.

"But you'd have to kill me if you told me which branch?"

Ryan smiled. "Something like that."

"You hungry?"

Ryan realised that he was peckish, and nodded.

"I'll take a shower and then rustle something up. There's beer in the fridge in the meantime."

Ryan helped himself to a can, noticing that the fridge bore just basics. Either Billy wasn't here much, or he ate out a lot.

He wandered back into the living room and perched on the windowseat, watching an altercation between a bus driver and a taxi driver. Billy joined him after about 15 minutes, smelling of soap. 

"How does toasted cheese sound?" asked Billy.

"Very good."

"It's one of the things I miss when I'm away. Bloody Yanks don't have proper grills."

Ryan didn't react to the slip, but he knew that Billy knew he'd spotted it.

They devoured two rounds apiece of toasted cheese, liberally sprinkled with Worcestershire Sauce and washed down by another can of beer. When Ryan glanced at his watch, it was just gone midnight.

"Fancy seeing a match tomorrow?" asked Billy casually.

Ryan nodded. He hadn't got anything else planned for his leave, aside from a few days back in Hereford.

Billy handed Ryan a business card. It wasn't that informative – the name Billy Collins, with a mobile phone number underneath. Ryan tucked it into his wallet, then scribbled his own number on the back of another card.

"Give me a ring in the morning and we can decide on a match then," said Billy.

Ryan nodded. "OK. And if you like Indian food, there's a great little place behind Euston. My treat."

Billy beamed. "I love Indian. Another thing I miss… 

When Ryan got outside, he looked up. The figure at the window raised a hand in farewell. Ryan responded, then set off across Russell Square to the Tube. A quiet drink in a bar had, against the odds, turned into an evening that he'd enjoyed thoroughly. He'd seen too many military relationships go down the pan, so he wasn't getting his hopes up. But a mate to fuck and to go to matches with was a good place to start.


End file.
